A Series of Unfortunate One-shots
by VeronicaWeasley
Summary: The title says it all. One-shots, about anything and everything relating to A Series of Unfortunate Events and my story A More Fortunate Series of Events.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone! Normally, ASOUE writers write a main story and then a one-shot collection. I've decided to do both at the same time. I have quite a few ideas of my own, but you are welcome to pitch me your one-shot ideas in a PM or review.**

**The first short story is very AU. I own nothing.**

Will Count Olaf Please Stand Up?

"There's nothing but flat land for miles around. If Count Olaf is still here, he's doing an extraordinary job of hiding."

"We have a small diner ahead. Let's investigate there. Olaf can't have gone far."

"Good idea. And don't forget, we've got that damaged bridge to check out."

The two people you have just read dialogue between are none other than police officers Jacquelyn Scieszka and Larry-Your-Waiter. They are on the case of an escaped convict and are currently trying to find him.

In a moment, these two officers will find themselves in a very sticky situation involving the occupants of a small roadside diner in the middle of the Hinterlands.

Investigate with them and you, like these unsuspecting police officers, will find yourself caught up in the mystery that is A Series Of Unfortunate Events.

...

"Afternoon officers," the diner owner, a man with a bright red beard, glasses, overalls, and baseball cap greeted cheerfully. "What brings you here?"

"Unfortunate business, unfortunately," said Jacquelyn. "There's a murderer on the loose. Goes by the name of Count Olaf. He has one eyebrow and a tattoo of an eye on his ankle. We wondered if he might have come in here."

"A murderer?" the diner owner scratched his head, an incredulous look on his face. "Why, there's been no one in here since that bus arrived two hours ago."

The two police officers approached the bus driver, a broad-shouldered man with dark hair and a mustache, seated across from a platinum-blonde woman dressed in fur.

"Do you happen to have a passenger manifest of some kind?" Larry asked the bus driver.

"Passenger manifest? No," answered the driver promptly. Larry sighed. "But I can tell you there were six passengers. That is, unless one of them fell off along the way," he added with a chuckle.

"No one fell off," Jacquelyn said. "Quite the contrary. It appears someone jumped on. There are seven passengers here."

Jacquelyn was right. Seated at various tables in the diner were two married couples with dark hair, a man in a rumpled suit, a woman in glasses reading a book, and the aforementioned platinum-blonde woman.

The bus driver gave Jacquelyn an angry look. "Are you implying that someone hitched a ride on my bus without me knowing it?"

"Precisely," said Jacquelyn. "The only question is: Who?"

"We may never know," the platinum-blonde woman said with a posh British accent. "Driver, we must go. I have a very important meeting I need to get to. It's not IN to be late, you know."

"Not so fast," Larry said. "No one leaves until we've found Count Olaf." He turned to Jacquelyn. "Where do we start?"

"I suppose you'll eliminate the couples first," said the woman in glasses, setting down her book. "One person can't pose as two people."

"That's right!" one of the husbands called out. He gestured to his wife and the other couple. "We're exonerated!"

"Honey," said the other wife to her husband, "I could have sworn you had a mole on your chin."

"A mole? Katie, we've been married for twelve years. I've never had a mole on my chin."

"Is this your goal, officers?" asked the man in the rumpled suit. "To make us all notice invisible differences about each other, to the point we turn on people we've known fondly for years?"

"Yes," the platinum-blonde woman agreed. "This whole thing is ridiculous. There's only one person the murderer could be, and it's him," she pointed to the man in the rumpled suit.

"I most certainly am not a murderer," the man in question objected. "Nor am I a murderer's accomplice."

"Do you have indentification, sir?" Jacquelyn asked.

The man in the rumpled suit hesitated. "Well...no. My wallet is in my suitcase. It was sent ahead."

"He was on the bus," interjected the bus driver. "There are two people I know were on the bus for sure. That man there is my brother, Lemony Snicket. I'm Jacques Snicket."

"And the other person?" inquired Larry-Your-Waiter. "Who else was on the bus?"

"That pretty lady, there." Jacques nodded to the woman in the glasses. "She's the only one I truly noticed."

Jacquelyn walked over to the young woman. "What is your name?"

"Olivia Caliban. I'm the librarian at Prufrock Preparatory School." The police officers nodded.

"Wherever your murderer is hiding, it certainly isn't here," the platinum-blonde woman said again.

"Who's to say the murderer isn't you?" Olivia Caliban challenged. "What's to stop a man from donning women's clothing and using a fake accent?"

"I happen to be Luciana Genevieve," said the platinum-blonde owner of that name. "I am a very prominent member of the banking community."

A look of comprehension suddenly dawned on the face of Jacquelyn. "The owner. Where's the owner gone?" For the owner of the diner had disappeared, unnoticed by any of the patrons.

"Yes, where is he?" Luciana wondered. "The man should be back with my sugar bowl now. DuPont!"

The diner owner then emerged from a storeroom behind the counter, sugar bowl in hand. "Yes?"

"These members of law enforcement seem to think that you are an escaped murderer," laughed Luciana, taking the sugar.

"I am no more a murderer than anyone else in this room," DuPont said. "I'll tell you what happened, officers. Your bus driver friend here simply made a mistake when counting heads, and thought there were six people instead of seven."

The two police officers turned on Jacques. "I suppose that's possible," he admitted. "Though I'm sure there were-"

The telephone rang abruptly, cutting Jacques off in the middle of his sentence. Larry picked up the receiver. "Yes. Yes. Yes." He hung up and turned to the diner customers. "A bridge up the road was out, but it's fixed now. You're all free to leave."

"Thank goodness!" Luciana stood up. "I may not miss my meeting. Come along, driver."

The customers all stood up, paid for the things they had ordered and promptly left the diner. Luciana was first to board the bus and headed straight for the back. She was followed by the two couples, the man named Lemony in the rumpled suit, the woman in glasses called Olivia, and the driver, who turned to the police officers and told them they were letting a very dangerous man run loose.

The bus departed from its parking spot in front of the diner, trailed by Larry and Jacquelyn's police car.

...

The bell on the diner door rang, announcing the arrival of a single person, who proceeded to sit at the counter.

"Coffee. Lots of sugar," the person ordered in a British accent.

"Of course." The diner owner prepared the order in a flash. He looked more closely at the woman sitting in front of him. "Weren't you on that bus?"

"I was."

"How did you escape?"

"Escape the bridge collapse? Why, I simply left through the back door while the others were boarding." The woman sipped her coffee.

"Pretty smart. As if you knew the bridge wasn't safe."

"Yes. You should never trust fake phone calls."

"Fake?"

"Of course. Now if you'll excuse me," the woman stood up. "I have some fortunate orphans to chase after. You see, my name isn't Luciana. And I'm not going to a meeting."

"You're after the Baudelaire fortune?" The diner owner removed his fake red beard. "Good luck to you. But you should know," he took off his glasses, "my name isn't really DuPont. I have more experience chasing after orphans." The man lifted the baseball cap from his head, revealing a single brow above his eyes. "And you can see how I differ."

...

Dear reader, beware. If you meet a rude blonde named Luciana in the city, or encounter an overly cheery and sensible man named DuPont in some remote location, I encourage you to run as fast as you can in the opposite direction. These people are not who they seem to be. They are villans. Murderers. And they may very well be after your fortune.

So be wary. Otherwise, you may take a page out of the police officers books, and find yourself in the midst of A Series of Unfortunate Events.

**Author's Note: Reviews are appreciated, no matter how you felt about the story.**

**This short story was based on an episode of _The Twilight Zone,_ created by Rod Serling. The episode in question is titled "Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?" and can be found on Netflix.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys, I'm back with another one-shot. If you have an idea, _please _PM me or put it in your review. This will probably be the last thing I post for a while, as I have started school.**

Spur of the Moment

A young woman stepped out of her house into the front garden, where a pure white horse awaited. She climbed onto the horse, nodded at the man holding the reins, and set off down the path.

After passing through a grove of trees- from which the bitterest apples always grew- the young woman came upon a tall hill at the edge of a meadow. She paused at the bottom of this hill, listening to the sound of approaching hooves.

An older woman, dressed in a bat-like black cape and riding clothes, appeared atop the hill. The woman and her steed (which was as dark as a crow flying through a pitch black night) rode quickly down the hill in the direction of the young woman frozen at the bottom.

"Kit!" The dark-clothed woman cried out in an unearthly shriek that rattled every bone in the young woman being addressed.

The mysterious figure gave her horse a sharp tap with her riding crop and began to chase the young woman down the path.

The young woman rode hurriedly along the path the way she had come, a look of sheer terror on her face.

Kit Snicket, age eighteen. A naïve young woman who by the end of this story will have made a grave mistake. A mistake she will look back on with a longing to fix it. But to further explain her story, we will need to travel around time, a feat that can only be performed with the help of A Series of Unfortunate Events.

* * *

Kit rode wildly down the path, stopping only when she reached her home. Tossing the reins to the ground she went flying up the front steps, threw open the door, and collapsed into the front hall.

"Kit, whatever is the matter?" Mrs. Snicket asked, giving her daughter a worried look.

Kit could not answer; she was breathing erratically now and her eyes were wide.

"Kit, calm down and tell us what happened," ordered Mr. Snicket. He led his daughter to the sofa in the living room. Kit sat there for a moment, being held by her mother. Finally, she caught her breath, stood up, and launched into a hurried explanation.

"I was riding down the path, and I was all alone. Then I stopped at the bottom of the hill in the meadow. And all of a sudden, this woman came riding down the hill, with a look of pure hatred on her face."

"What woman?" Mrs. Snicket inquired.

"I don't know who she was," said Kit. "But she was riding straight towards me. She was screaming at me. My name, and something else I couldn't understand. I don't know what she wanted, but I think-" Kit paused, shuddering. "I think she wanted to kill me." Kit collapsed again, this time into the arms of her fiancé, a young man named Dewey Denouement who had been listening to her story.

"Dear, I think you'd better call the police," Mrs. Snicket told her husband. Mr. Snicket hustled off to do so.

"Maybe it was a warning," Dewey told Kit after Mr. Snicket had left. "Are you sure the woman didn't have a sign?" He lowered his voice to a spooky octave. "Don't marry that hotel manager, yours truly Fate?"

"That's not funny, Dewey," said Kit indignantly. "There was a woman and she wanted to kill me, I'm sure of it."

"Try to put it out of your mind," Mrs. Snicket urged. "Think of your engagement party tonight."

As Dewey and Kit smiled at each other, the doorbell rang. When it was opened, angry shouting ensued almost at once.

"She won't see you. Not after what's been done," protested Mr. Snicket.

"I don't care about that, I want to see her," insisted another voice.

"She won't see you." There was more muffled arguing as Kit, Dewey, and Mrs. Snicket approached the door. A clean shaven young man with white-blond hair was standing in the doorway.

"Olaf," Kit whispered. Dewey put a protective hand on her shoulder.

"She is engaged!" Mr. Snicket shouted.

"I don't care about that, I want to see her," Olaf repeated. Spotting Kit, he pushed past Mr. Snicket and ran to the young woman. "It's not too late." Olaf grabbed Kit roughly by the shoulders, pushing Dewey's hand away in the process. He pointed to Kit's fiancé. "Break your engagement with him the way you broke ours."

"You're crazy!" Dewey yelled, pulling Kit away from Olaf.

"Crazy with love." Olaf grabbed Kit's shoulders again. "Come on, you barely know this guy. You can't marry him!"

Kit looked back and forth between the two young men. "I-"

"You have until the count of five to leave this house!" Mr. Snicket reappeared, a gun in his hand. "One!"

"Father, no!" Kit cried in alarm.

"Is this how you want this to go, Kit?" Olaf asked as Mr. Snicket yelled 'Two!' "You want your father to break us up at gunpoint?"

"Three!" Mr. Snicket shouted.

Kit shook her head in fear, unable to say anything.

"Five!" Mr. Snicket shouted, and Olaf ran from the house.

* * *

A woman in her early forties, clothed all in black, dismounted her horse at the front steps of her mansion. She entered the foyer and closed the front door behind her.

Crossing a dusty floor to the living room, the woman took a half-full bottle of wine from a pile of old bottles on the coffee table and poured herself a drink. She sank back into a dilapidated armchair with a loud sigh.

The entire house was falling apart. A mess of peeling paint, grimy chandeliers, and torn furniture, the house had the look of a villian's home. It seemed the sort of place you would place three orphaned children for comedic purposes in a family-friendly television show.

"Kit?" An older version of Mrs. Snicket entered the living room. She, at least, looked better taken care of than the house. Mrs. Snicket seated herself on the sofa opposite her daughter. She looked over the younger woman, taking in the full glass Kit was holding. "Does that help?"

"It does," Kit said. "If I drink enough of it."

Mrs. Snicket sighed. "If your father saw the state of his house..."

Kit laughed. A high, cold, mirthless laugh. "Ha! If my father saw the state of his house, he'd complain that he didn't get his way. He never got me out of his home, for one thing. For another, I didn't do what he said, with the runaway marriage I had. I never did listen to him. And now I'm paying for it. For twenty-five years I've paid for it." Kit took a long drink of wine, finished off her glass, and refilled it just as quickly. "Do you know what I saw today, Mother?"

"What did you see?" Mrs. Snicket asked timidly.

"I saw a ghost." Kit stood up and tapped a picture on the wall with her riding crop. It was a portrait of a young woman in a white dress, smiling pleasantly for the painter. "A ghost of myself, exactly as I looked at eighteen. Do you remember the day of my engagement party?"

Mrs. Snicket nodded.

"Do you remember how I came home that day; terrified because of a strange woman I had seen in the meadow?

"Well mother, _I _was that woman. That awful woman who scared a girl out of her wits all those years ago.

"And you know what? I keep seeing her. My eighteen-year-old self, on the day I ruined my life forever. I've been chasing after her for days, trying to warn her not to make my mistake. But of course she does. She goes and marries him, just as I did. She condemns herself to this fate. Over and over and over." Kit finished off her second drink and returned to the armchair.

A man a few years older than Kit stumbled into the living room. His face was as shabby as the house. A mess of stubble covered his chin, his white-gray hair was not at all neat, and his two eyebrows had grown into one. He cast a scathing look at Mrs. Snicket. "I thought I told you to go away." Mrs. Snicket scrambled out of her chair and dashed from the mansion, leaving her daughter alone with this awfully unshaven man.

"We're having some orphans delivered tomorrow," Olaf slurred. "Children, like you've always wanted."

"Oh goodie," said Kit sarcastically.

"You might need to hold off on the alcohol, my countess." Olaf cupped Kit's face in his hand. As he turned her chin up to look at him, Kit raised her hand and slapped the man.

"I'm not your _countess! _I'm Kit Snicket, you killed my father, and I never should have married you." Kit stood up.

"Come on," Olaf pleaded drunkenly. "I'm your true love. Your adored one. Remember, Kit?"

Kit did remember.

* * *

It was nighttime, twenty-five years ago, and Kit's engagement party was in full swing. The young woman being engaged, on the other hand, was standing alone on the front steps. She appeared to be waiting for someone.

Dewey stepped outside and joined his fiancé in staring blankly at the parked cars. "They're missing you in there. I've never seen your father so happy."

"He's happy because he's getting his way," Kit mumbled.

"What?"

"I said I'm cold. Would you mind getting me a jacket?"

Dewey smiled. "I'm on it. Don't go anywhere."

Kit smiled, a fake smile that Dewey took as a genuine grin. "I won't."

Dewey disappeared into the house. The second he was gone, Olaf appeared from around the corner hedge. He motioned for Kit to come to him.

Kit ran down the driveway and threw herself into Olaf's arms.

"Is that a yes?" Olaf asked. "Do you love me? More than you've ever loved him?"

"Yes of course!" exclaimed Kit. "You're my true love. My adored one. Take me away with you."

"All right countess," Olaf laughed. "Let's go." The couple ran off into the night, just as Dewey turned the corner in search of Kit.

* * *

"Get away from me!" Kit pushed Olaf, sending him stumbling backwards. "I've never loved you, you were never my adored one, and I'm leaving this house right now!" She ran from the dilapidated mansion and mounted her horse. Then she rode off down the garden path. Kit didn't stop until she reached the top of the hill.

Looking down, Kit saw a young woman riding a white horse. That person was looking up at her with a fearful expression.

"Kit!" Kit shrieked, riding down the hill toward the girl. The other Kit gave her horse a sharp tap with the riding crop and bolted down the path.

Kit chased after her, a look of sheer terror on her face.

Kit Snicket, age forty-three. Caught in an endless loop of time. A shadow of things she can't change. For the past stays in the past the moment it leaves the present, and the future can only look back on it as yesterday.

I'm sorry to tell you this, but that is the story of A Series of Unfortunate Events.

**This short story was also based upon an episode of the Twilight Zone. The plot belongs to Rod Serling and the characters belong to Lemony Snicket. I own nothing.**

**Now please, _I implore you, _give me some ideas! Put the idea in your review. All I need is a short summary/description of what you want me to write, and the characters you want in the story. **

**Please help. I really appreciate ideas and reviews in general. Thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Good news! It's Labor Day weekend, so I get three days off of school to write fanfiction. **

**This one-shot takes place during The Slippery Slope.**

Violet Says Duncan

Quigley watched the slightly older girl sitting next to him on the frozen waterfall ledge. She looked thoughtful, looking down upon the landscape with her hair tied up with a makeshift ribbon.

Quigley had learned in the past not to be too forward with girls, but something about Violet made him feel like she wouldn't mind. Her brother was far below, looking through a book of codes discovered in the remnants of V.F.D. headquarters. It would be so easy if Quigley leaned over and-

Violet jumped. Quigley was suddenly aware of their hand placement. Violet's gloved hand was resting on the ice, and Quigley had put his hand on top of it while the two of them had been thinking.

"Sorry," Quigley said, pulling his hand away.

"Oh, that's all right," Violet said absently. She returned her gaze to the landscape. "You know, despite the ruins of the fire, it really is a lovely view."

"Very lovely indeed," Quigley said, looking directly at Violet.

"But you're not looking at..." Violet cut herself off, realizing what had just happened. She blushed and smiled at Quigley.

Awkwardly, Quigley leaned closer to her. "Would it be all right if I-" he was cut off by Violet pressing her lips to his. The kiss lasted for only a second, but Quigley had never wanted anything more.

Violet pulled her face away from his for a moment. There was still less than an inch of space between them. "That would be more than all right, Duncan." She leaned in to kiss Quigley again. He let her do so for a moment before he processed her statement.

Quigley broke away from the affection of the eldest Baudelaire. "What did you call me?"

Violet turned scarlet. "I called you Quigley, of course."

"_No, _you didn't."

"Well, I _meant_ to say your name."

"Yeah, okay." Quigley slid over a few inches. How could he have been so stupid? She had attended Prufrock Prep; she had met Duncan. Why had Quigley ever thought he could make Violet fall for him? "If you're rested enough we should get going."

"Okay..." Violet said, in confusion at Quigley's suddenly offended tone.

"Okay." Quigley shoved his enhanced hiking shoe hard into the ice.

"What's wrong?" Violet asked moments later, when they had climbed a bit farther up.

Quigley didn't say anything.

* * *

Violet was talking to Sunny, her baby sister, who was currently trapped in a giant bird cage that had once been used to house V.F.D. eagles. Quigley couldn't make out any of the baby talk until Sunny pointed to him and squeaked out: "Duncan?"

"No Sunny," Violet corrected. "This is Duncan Quagmire."

The baby brought a palm to her forehead. Quigley glared and stepped forward. "I'm _Quigley _Quagmire. I survived the fire." Sunny nodded in understanding.

"I _meant _Quigley," said Violet. Quigley saw Sunny distinctly roll her eyes.

* * *

"Duncan and I are back, Klaus!" Violet called, jumping down from the frozen waterfall.

Klaus Baudelaire looked up in shock. "Duncan? Is Isadora with him?"

"She means me," said Quigley, resigned to his fate.

"Oh." Klaus looked dejected. The he looked at Quigley, his face becoming an 'oof' expression. "_Oh._"

"I _meant _Quigley!" Violet cried in exasperation.

* * *

Quigley wrapped his arms around the tree branch, watching as the Baudelaires slid away down the mountain. Violet was yelling something he couldn't make out. It didn't matter anyway, as she was probably yelling his brother's name.

Little did he know that for the first time that day, Violet Baudelaire was looking back at the third Quagmire triplet and calling out his name.

"Quigley!"

** Well, what did you think? I'm sorry guys, I don't ship Quiglet. Dunclet shipping aside, I had so much fun writing this. **

**Please tell me what you thought!**


	4. Chapter 4

**It's 12:30 pm on Saturday, so there's nothing better to do than post a one-shot! I hope you all enjoy it!**

She Goes to A Different Country

Quigley stared at the group text message in disbelief. _I leave my phone for an hour and you guys are talking about mailing my sweatshirt. _He looked at the jacket in question, currently lying on his bed. Then he thought about Fiona. Would she actually want it?

His phone buzzed. He had two messages from Violet. _Yep. While you're at it, would you mind mailing your hat to my house?_

Quigley's reply was a prompt _No._

His phone buzzed again. This time it was his sister, Isadora. _That's very rude, Quigs. Why not?_

_Don't call me Quigs. I'm not against you wearing my hat, Violet, but I am against sending it to you in the mail._

"Quigley, stop stealing my girlfriend!" Duncan yelled across the room from the other bed.

"She's not your girlfriend!" Quigley called back.

"She's more real than your girlfriend!"

"I have evidence! If you want Violet so badly, _you _should send her a hat!"

Duncan's eyes widened. "You're a genius!" He jumped off his bed and ran from the bedroom, taking Quigley's hat with him as he went.

Quigley returned to the group chat, but it was just Violet updating the score of her school's football game. From the looks of it, it wasn't going well. Quigley put down his phone and looked at his sweatshirt again. What if he did send it?

* * *

"So, remind me of your genius Homecoming plan again?" Quigley asked Duncan at lunch the next Monday.

"I mailed Violet your hat, with a note asking her to the dance, but I signed your name. Then, if she agrees to go, I'll show up and tell her it was me the whole time!"

"Uh-huh." Having lost interest in his brother's awful plan, Quigley returned his attention to the group chat. There was a very frantic text from Isadora.

_QUIGLEY, DID YOU ASK VIOLET TO HOMECOMING? YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND, YOU-_

Quigley stopped reading. "That's a great plan, D." He showed Duncan the text.

Duncan seized the phone and typed a message. He hit send and passed the device back.

"_A British girlfriend, Izzy, and I had to end things with her at some point,_" Quigley read. "Seriously?"

"Yes," Duncan said, his mouth full of food.

Quigley typed another message. _Sorry guys, Duncan stole my phone. Violet, he sent the hat and wants to go with you. Isadora, put your phone away in class!_

* * *

"Don't look so sad Quigley, lots of people don't have dates." It was three weeks later. The three Quagmire triplets were at their school's Homecoming. Duncan and Violet had come together. Violet, as expected, was wearing Converse and Quigley's hat along with her dress.

"At least you aren't being forced to dance with Carmelita Spats," Klaus said. Isadora had invited Violet's brother as a date for her friend. Isadora had her own date, but she and Klaus were spending more time around each other than they should have been.

"How you suffer," Quigley said sarcastically, checking his phone for the millionth time. _Where are you?_

"Come on Quigs." Isadora pulled Quigley into the dance floor as a slow song started. "Go find someone to dance with." She walked away to dance with Klaus.

Quigley sighed and turned around, in search of a girl. He found himself in the middle of a crowd of couples, so there was nobody. Then he felt someone tap his shoulder.

"Hey," said an accented voice, "how you doin'?"

Fiona was standing there, wearing a silver dress and Quigley's purple jacket. Without thinking, Quigley wrapped his arms around her and kissed her full on the mouth. Fiona didn't seem to mind.

* * *

Later that night, the Quagmire triplets walked home with their respective dates. Violet was up ahead, talking animatedly with Fiona about inventions. Klaus and Isadora were in the back, holding hands and talking quietly. Quigley and Duncan were in the middle of the group.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Quigley.

"Fiona seems very nice," Duncan said. "I was skeptical with the 'she lives in a different country' thing, but you got lucky, for a girl you met at a Scouts event."

"That's not what you're thinking." Quigley raised an eyebrow.

"You're right," said Duncan. "I'm thinking, 'man, that's a girly sweatshirt!'"

**Yeah, a Figley one-shot!**

**That sweatshirt conversation actually happened between my friends and I, but neither a sweatshirt nor a hat was actually mailed. **

**Tell me what you thought please! Remember, I do take suggestions. **


	5. Chapter 5

**It's April! Yay! **

**I decided to post something today, and that something happens to be a Quiglet fic. *gasp***

**Quick background info before we start: This is an AU fic, loosely based on the song "More Hearts Than Mine" by Ingrid Andress. In this, Violet is 20, the Quagmire triplets are 19, Klaus is 18, Fiona is 21, and Sunny is 8.**

**Enjoy!**

**More Hearts Than Mine**

Quigley Quagmire and Violet Baudelaire had been dating for two months. He had first asked her out in mid-October; they had met at a party in their shared dorm building at Prufrock College, and the two of them became fast friends. This friendship quickly blossomed into something more, to the chagrin of Quigley's triplet brother Duncan, who had been quietly observing Violet during their shared classes, and had developed a crush. But as usual, Quigley had gotten to the girl first. Said girl had recently asked Quigley to come home with her over the winter holidays.

"She wants you to meet her parents!" Quigley's sister Isadora exclaimed when he broke the news, by way of as long his siblings to explain his absence from their family's annual holiday party. "This is _huge_!"

"Hugely nerve-wracking," Duncan pointed out. "Are you sure you want to do that, Quigs?"

Quigley rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course. I'm not in high school anymore. Commitment doesn't scare me."

Isadora smirked. "You already told her you would go, didn't you?"

"Shut up."

* * *

Violet loaded the last suitcase into the trunk of her car and slammed the trunk door closed. She walked around to the front of the car and slid into the driver's seat next to her boyfriend. Then, she turned to look at him, eager to discuss the issue that had been bothering her all day. It had been on her mind ever since her roommate, who had attended the same high school as Quigley, had told her about his reputation as a heart-breaker.

"I've been wanting to talk to you," said Violet, "and more importantly, _warn _you about this trip."

"Warn me?" Quigley grinned. "What for?"

"Well, I never really dated in high school." Quigley nodded. "You're the first actual boyfriend I've had, not to mention the first boy I've brought home who was more than a friend." Quigley nodded again. He was starting to look like a bobblehead. "I know my parents are going to love you. My siblings too."

"Okay..." said Quigley, raising his eyebrows. He couldn't see the problem that Violet was trying to get at.

"I just don't want them getting too attached," Violet continued.

"Well, they'll never have a chance to 'get attached' if we don't get on the road."

Violet could tell that Quigley was avoiding her question, but she didn't want to start off her holiday break by fighting. She dropped the subject and pulled out of the student parking lot.

* * *

The two hour drive passed in tense silence; Quigley turned on the radio halfway so they wouldn't have to talk. The couple would have been fine with avoiding the subject for the rest of the drive if Violet hadn't restarted the conversation with only a few minutes to go.

"I'm trying to make sure you don't come across as 'the best boyfriend in the world,'" she said, as if they had been discussing this topic for a long time.

"So you're saying I'm not the best boyfriend in the world?" Quigley asked indignantly.

"Of course I'm not saying that-"

"Good."

"No one can be the best in the world at anything."

"Right, of course."

Violet sighed. "My point is, I want you to be nice to my family, but not _too _nice. Okay?"

Quigley mimicked Violet's sigh. "I'll try."

"I want to make sure that no one else gets hurt when we break up."

"Don't you mean 'if'?"

Violet said nothing.

Luckily, she and Quigley arrived at the Baudelaire mansion at that very moment. A man and a woman were sitting on the front porch. They were, obviously, Violet's parents. The two of them leapt up eagerly as the car came to a stop in their large, circular driveway. Violet was so pleased to see them that she jumped out of the car moments after it stopped.

"Mother, Father!" She called, running up the porch steps into their arms.

"Violet!" Her mother exclaimed. "We're so glad to have you back."

"How goes the third year of college?" Her father asked.

"You know. I told you all about it in my last letter."

"You did, did you? Funny, there seemed to be one topic you didn't tell us anything about." Mr. Baudelaire pointed his chin in the direction of Quigley, who was unloading the car.

Violet walked over to her boyfriend and pulled him away from the suitcase he was struggling to get out of the trunk. "Quigley, these are my parents. Mother, Father, this is Quigley Quagmire."

"It's nice to meet you both," Quigley said, shaking hands with Mr. Baudelaire. Then, he held out his hand to Mrs. Baudelaire, expecting the same reaction. To his surprise, she enveloped him in a hug.

Violet shook her head. "Mother..."

Mrs. Baudelaire let go of Quigley. "I'm a hugger," she explained apologetically. "I'm so happy to finally meet you."

"Violet was telling me how excited you would be." Quigley shot his girlfriend a pointed look, then quickly covered it with a smile when he noticed Mrs. Baudelaire watching. Violet looked at the ground, avoiding Quigley's gaze.

Mrs. Baudelaire picked up on the tension and quickly changed the subject. "Bertrand, why don't you take Quigley inside? Violet and I will bring in their things."

"No, you don't have to-" Quigley started to say, but Mrs. Baudelaire waved him off.

"Nonsense. You're a guest. You boys go chat. We'll be in in a minute."

Quigley looked at Violet, who was (thankfully) looking at him again. She shrugged, as if to say "you'd better go", the turned away and followed her mother round the back of the car. Trying to suppress his nerves, Quigley followed Mr. Baudelaire inside.

Violet's father led Quigley into a sitting room off the foyer and invited him to sit down. "So, Quigley Quagmire," remarked Mr. Baudelaire, busying himself with the drinks cart in a corner of the sitting room. "You wouldn't happen to be related to Cameron Quagmire, would you?"

"Yes, actually. That's my dad."

"I knew him in college. We were very good friends. Unfortunately, we lost touch when he met your mother."

"That's too bad," said Quigley. "I'll tell him you say hello."

Mr. Baudelaire set a glass of something copper colored with ice on the coffee table in front of Quigley before sitting down himself. "Quigley. I wanted to talk with you about-"

A door burst open in a room somewhere behind them, interrupting Mr. Baudelaire.

"I'm home!" A boy's voice called. "Is Violet here yet?"

Mr. Baudelaire sighed loudly, making his disappointment in this person clear. "That'll be my son, Klaus." He stood up. "Excuse me for a moment."

When Mr. Baudelaire left the room, Quigley picked up the copper-colored drink. Smelling alcohol, he quickly set it back down, knowing it would certainly be a mistake to drink in front of Violet's parents. He had begun getting into staring at the wall when Violet and her mother walked inside with the suitcases.

"Hey!" He said, smiling as if he hadn't seen Violet for a long time.

"Hey," she replied less enthusiastically. Realizing Quigley was alone, she looked around the sitting room. "Where did Father go?"

"Your brother came home, so he left to go talk to him." It was no sooner than a second after Quigley said these words that Mr. Baudelaire's yell rang through the air.

"KLAUS BAUDELAIRE!"

Immediately, Mrs. Baudelaire and her daughter dashed off to investigate the source of this shout. Quigley heard a shriek, and Violet yelling "What did you do?!" This was enough to make him unable to sit in the parlor any longer. He walked out of the sitting room, remembering the way Violet and her mother had gone.

Quigley ended up standing in the doorway of the Baudelaire kitchen, observing the commotion. It didn't take him long to figure out what had triggered all the screaming.

On the other side of the large kitchen island, across from Violet and her parents, stood a boy who was clearly Violet's brother. He had the same dark eyes and similar pleasant facial features, though he wore glasses. He also appeared- though Quigley couldn't be certain- to be a few inches taller than Violet, despite being the middle Baudelaire child.

But there was something off about his appearance. Something that shouldn't have been there. This was what had warranted all the screaming. Violet's brother had a black ski cap in his hand, which he appeared to have taken off moments before. The reason for wearing the ski cap was obvious. Because California was warm year-round, the only reason to wear such a hat would have been to hide something about one's appearance. In the case of Klaus, he had been hiding his hair, or rather, his lack thereof.

Violet was standing with her hand clapped to her mouth in shock, while her parents looked extremely upset. Quigley wanted to laugh, but was trying hard not to. Klaus' head looked like and egg in its current bald state.

Mr. Baud opened his mouth to start reprimanding his son. Unexpectedly, Klaus began to laugh. "Like the new hair? I had it done in England last week before I came back here."

Now Violet was giggling behind her hand. "_New_ hair?!"

Still laughing, Klaus reached up to the front of his forehead and pulled off a bald cap, revealing the mess of dark curls that he had been hiding. "You should have seen your faces!"

Mrs. Baudelaire shot her son a look of great disappointment, before turning to Violet. "You show Quigley around town. Take Klaus with you. I'm going to lie down."

The moment the trio stepped out of the Baudelaire mansion, they all burst out laughing.

"I _have _to try that on my parents," Quigley said. "My parents would freak."

"I'll help you," said Klaus, "but only if I can film the reactions."

"Sounds good to me."

"How was Europe?" Violet asked, then quickly explained to Quigley that Klaus had been backpacking around Europe for the past year.

* * *

Violet and Klaus spent the rest of the day showing Quigley around their city. After several hours of walking around and enjoying the warm December weather, all three of them agreed that it was probably safe for Klaus to return home.

They were greeted at the door by a very pretty girl with dark skin and triangular glasses. Klaus threw his arms around her right after walking inside.

"This is Fiona," he introduced. "Fiona, this is Quigley."

Fiona looked Quigley over. "You're shorter than I expected. And you should grow your hair out."

Quigley was stopped from responding to these comments by a small blonde girl who barreled past him and jumped into Violet's arms. He recognized the girl from pictures Violet had shown him. It was her younger sister, Sunny.

The eight-year-old studied Quigley now from the ground (Violet had set her down). "Are you and Violet going to get married?"

Quigley felt himself blush, and Violet laughed nervou, saying: "No, Sunny."

"Why not?"

"Because," Quigley answered.

"Because why?" Sunny asked.

"I don't think they want to, Sun." explained Klaus as the group walked into the sitting room.

"Just like you and Fiona don't want to get married?"

Now it was Klaus' turn to blush. "Yep," replied Fiona, cuddling Klaus' hair. "Exactly like that."

Sunny flipped onto the couch with an exasperated huff.

* * *

The rest of the week passed in a blur. Before Quigley knew it, it was Christmas Eve. Klaus was going to go out with some friends, and he invited Quigley and Violet to come along.

"You go ahead," said Violet. "I'm staying in with Sunny."

"I'll stay too," Quigley offered, even though he wanted to go.

"No, you should go meet my old friends. They'll tell you embarrassing stories about me and I won't be there to stop it."

"I thought you didn't want me to get acquainted with the people in your life," Quigley hissed, bringing up the conversation and Violet had had during the drive to the Baudelaire home.

"I don't want to discuss that now," Violet whispered. She added, loudly enough for Klaus to hear: "Go out. Have a good time."

"Fine," Quigley muttered.

The two boys met up with Fiona and Ben, another mutual friend of Violet and Klaus, at a bar in one of the city's many downtown districts.

Fiona bought them all drinks, saying: "If anyone asks, y'all are twenty-one."

Thinking back several days later, Quigley supposed it would have been better if someone had caught the fact that he was underage.

Everything started going wrong in the third round of drinks. Fiona, Ben, and Klaus had- as Violet suspected- been more than willing to share embarrassing stories about Violet in high school. After that, Fiona began talking about her mycology major at the local univers, which led to her talking about her older brother, which led to her asking Quigley about his family.

Quigley explained that he lived with his rich parents and two triplets siblings, Duncan and Isadora. When he thought of Isadora, he had an idea. He looked at Klaus, who was talking to Ben about some book or other, and asked: "Are you single?"

Klaus looked confused. "Yes..."

"Great!" Quigley fished his phone out of his pocket and located Isadora's number. "My sister would love you!" He announced, pressing the video call button.

"Hey Quigley," Isadora's face appeared on the screen. "What's up wi-" Quigley passed the phone to Klaus. "Who're you?"

"I'm Klaus. Klaus Baudelaire." Klaus waved at the screen awkwardly before quickly handing the phone back to Quigley.

"I had a great idea, Iz!" Quigley exclaimed. "You and Klaus should date!"

Duncan, who must have been sitting next to Isadora, butted into the conversation. "Quigley, are you drunk?"

"You're in love with Violet," said Quigley loudly, not answering the question while simultaneously answering it. "That's fine by the way. I've found someone else."

"Okay, that's enough of that," Fiona said, reaching for the phone. "We should be getting ba-"

Quigley shoved the phone in her face. "This is Fiona! She's going to be my new girlfriend!"

"No, I'm not."

"It's fine! Violet doesn't want me to date her anymore anyway. She doesn't even want me to know any of you." Quigley waved his arms at the group sitting with him. "She's worried that you'll all get 'too attached' to me."

"Oh, there's no chance of that," Klaus said, but Quigley wasn't listening.

"She kept talking about 'if we break up'. Or actually, she said 'when we break up'. Like, let's just break up already!" Quigley thought this over. "Yeah! I'll call her now!"

"Quigley, don't-" was all the warning Duncan managed to give before Quigley ended the call.

Fiona tried to grab the phone from Quigley, but he held it out of her reach and dialed Violet's number.

Quigley couldn't remember anything that happened after that point. He only knew that he must have gone through with his plan, because Klaus drove him back to Prufrock the next day, where Isadora was waiting. After forcing Quigley into the backseat of her car (where he fell asleep), Isadora shook hands with Klaus, slipping him a piece of paper with her number on it in the process.

Quigley woke up in his own bed that afternoon, forced to endure the remains of a terrible hangover.

* * *

Classes at Prufrock College picked back up in the second week of January. Violet avoided Quigley at all costs- even in the classes that they shared. Violet's roommate sympathized with her for a short while, but quickly have that up to be able to say "I told you so".

Violet stopped talking to Fiona, who had kept in touch with Quigley, despite everything that had happened on the night before Christmas. She admitted to Violet that she had been mildly interested in Quigley, which allowed Violet a reason to ignore her.

All in all, Violet was trying to put her relationship with Quigley out of her mind, a feat that was not being helped by her family. Mrs. Baudelaire was more upset about the breakup than Violet; she kept calling her daughter to ask if she was okay. And the day after Violet for back to school, Mr. Baudelaire called to tell her that, for the record, he'd never liked Quigley anyway.

"Father, don't." Violet had said. "I know you and Mother both loved him."

Worst of all, Violet had been ignoring Klaus because he had been keeping in touch with Isadora, Quigley's sister. Klaus hadn't taken sides between her and Quigley, but Violet felt that he had.

Violet kept trying to convince herself that she was fine. Because she was. She was better off without Quigley. She was. She had wanted their relationship to end, right? But, she hadn't wanted it to end like _that_. Never mind that. She didn't need him to be happy. She was doing just fine without him. _She was fine. _

"Ugh!" Violet cried in frustration. She had to stop thinking about Quigley.

A knock sounded at her dorm room door. Probably someone looking for her roommate, who wasn't there at the moment. She was about to tell the person so by way of yelling through the door, but thought better of it. At least talking to someone for a few minutes would get her mind off Quigley.

Violet stood up, walked over to the door, and pulled it open. In the hall stood a boy with very dark hair and very wide, green eyes, holding a cardboard box. He looked familiar.

"Quigley?" Violet said, hardly able to believe it.

The boy ran a hand through his short hair. "Duncan. Sorry." He held out the box. "Quigley sent me to give your things back."

Violet took the box and smiled. "Thanks." She suddenly remembered where she had seen Duncan before, and it wasn't in Quigley's face. "You're in my Engineering class, right?"

"Yeah, though I think failing it." Violet laughed at this. "I'm only taking it because I'm studying to be a journalist, and I figured having knowledge about random subjects would be useful." Duncan ran a hand through his hair again.

"Well, if you ever need any help, you can come to me." Violet offered.

"Thanks, Violet," Duncan said. "I think I will."

**April Fools! Obviously, Dunclet is endgame (sorry Quiglet fans). If you squint, there's also some implied Figley and Kladora.**

** This is the longest thing I've ever written on here. Over 3,000 words. OH MY GODS.**

**As you may have noticed, Klaus was pulling an April Fools joke of his own (even though it was December in the story). This was inspired by actor Louis Hynes (who played Klaus in the show). For those of you who don't know, he recently shaved his head in order to raise funds for the Trussel Trust (a charity to help struggling families in England). I really wanted to have Klaus with a shaved head in a fanfic, so I put that scene in.**

**Good night/good morning! Stay safe everyone!**


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